Unwanted Beautiful Noise

I don't know if I should call this a 'guest' blog since his name is on the url...but Jimmy wrote this one and I just had to share. 

I just got back from a Pilgrimage to Haiti with eight people from the Apex UMC Family of Faith communities.  It was a trip that I went into not knowing what to expect.  We visited five different orphanages, each with different purposes.  One focused on infant through toddlers.  Two focused on Boys ages 10 to 21.  One had kid’s infant to eighteen.  The final one had people of all ages with various degrees of mental and physical disabilities.  The name of this orphanage is Wings of Hope.  This may be one of the most appropriately named organizations ever.  The stigma hanging over the physically and mentally disabled in Haiti is large.  Many Haitians with children with disabilities will give them up because of the stigma and the cost of raising a child with disabilities.  Wings of Hope gives these people the love and support they deserve.

Our first morning at Wings we went to the morning worship they hold every morning before school starts.  It was a combination of readings and singing.  Watching these people worship is a very moving experience.  There was one problem.  The first song started and one of the boys in a wheelchair started screaming.  I thought it was an involuntary noise he was making.  I also thought it was so unfortunate that he was disturbing such a beautiful worship service.  Then there was another reading followed by another song, and he did it again, right on cue it seemed.  I had the same thought again, what a shame.  I noticed right at the beginning of the third song he began yelling again.  I then realized he was not trying to “ruin” the church service.  I realized he was singing the best and only way he knew.  He was not worried about what everyone sitting around him was thinking about his singing like I do at church.  He was worshiping with a reckless abandon that should be celebrated and not something to be ashamed.   In the end, I believe a lot can be learned from this young man screaming in church.

Hold On

Disclaimer: The following story was only a dream. I say this so my mom won’t panic as she begins to read- either over the living with us part or the part with the gun. We won’t ask her which would scare her more.

We are living in an apartment. All 7 of us it seems- Jimmy, me, the kids and my parents. I am running late for work.

Sarah Bess: “Mom will you help me with this?”

Me: “Hold on, I need to make my lunch. I am late.”

I grab some leftovers from the fridge, have already forgotten the request for help and I am out in the parking lot where my friend and co-worker, Lillian, is waiting for me. I open the door and realize I left my lunch on the counter.

 “Hold on. I forgot my lunch", I say to Lillian.

I try to dash back inside unnoticed, but now Gabre is up. And she is wet.

Gabre: “Change me mama. I wet.”

Me: “Hold on. I am late. Let Sudie do it.”

Gabre: “No! Mama do it!”  Where is Jimmy, I think in exasperation.

I have to go, I look to my mom who takes her away screaming.

“Bye” I scream as I dash out the door to no one in particular.

I hop back into the car. But now there is a man in the back seat.

Lillian: “Hannah, this is Michael. We are going to drive him to the bank.” She says this so calmly but her look is off. And then I see it. Michael has a gun. He looks at it and then looks at me. He wants to make sure I see it.

I will spare you the rest of the details as they seem to get crazier as dreams do. We go to the bank. We all get out money. Michael does so without using the gun- evidently this robber has an ATM card. Eventually Lillian’s husband and Jimmy are at the bank with us, although I have no idea how they knew to come. I end up thinking, Jimmy is here. Always right when I need him.  

When my alarm woke me in the middle of this dream, I was not scared. Not of the situation, not of Michael, not of his gun. I actually wanted to go back to the dream. I wanted to know more about this Michael.

As I started the shower trying to shake off the fuzz of sleep, I felt I should stay with this dream. Why did I feel peaceful about being with Michael and anxiety about being with my family, running late? And even before I could finish asking myself the question, I knew the answer. With Michael, I was fully present. I surely wasn't telling him to ‘hold on’. It became a brief observation that morning…

Fast forward over the next few days and I have heard myself say ‘hold on’ one hundred billion times. To my children. To my husband. To my co-workers. To myself. To God. Sometimes out loud. Sometimes silently to myself. Often in my choices and actions. There is always something to get done- clothes to fold, dishes to wash, homework to painstakingly complete.  

Why am I making those that matter most ‘hold on’ for me to check off my list?

So my prayer is to change how I use that phrase. Now I want to hear myself say,

“Hold on email, a co-worker needs to share a concern.”

“Hold on dishes, Gabre wants to play outside.”

“Hold on facebook, I am going to talk to my husband after putting the kids down.”

“Hold on work, I am going to write.”

“Hold on world, God has different plans for me today.”